


Vesta

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elain uses the bond to her advantage, Eventual Smut, F/M, I hate tagging, Masturbation, Mating Bond, NSFW, Oral Sex, Some feelings at first, and then Elain gets tired of waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9832088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: Elain is living in the Spring Court so that she can be closer to her remaining human family and her relationship with Lucien (now High Lord of the Spring Court) is growing but still tenuous. She decides to test the bond one evening to see if she can get him to catch her in a compromising position."He is coming up with excuses to turn around again and go back to his own room when he hears her. She is saying something, low, quiet, and he can’t quite make it out, but the sound of his name coming from her lips breaks his reserve.When he opens the door he sees… much more than he had bargained for. "





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to combine two prompts, one from Elucien smut week (caught red-handed) and an anon dialogue prompt/request for Elucien (Do you want me to leave?)

Lucien has made this journey several times now, making it part way down the hallway before he turns back on his heels, only to curse himself and try again. It is late at night, and Elain retired to her room for the evening hours ago. He needs… he isn’t sure what he needs, really, only that it involves her, his mate, that he needs to be near her, even for a few more moments before he falls asleep. He felt something through the bond earlier, and although he isn’t accustomed to how it works, how to read what she inadvertently (or intentionally?) sends him, he could have sworn he felt desire somewhere amongst the threads that bind them. 

Elain has been living with Lucien for months, and they have been growing closer as they get used to the mating bond, as she continues to learn what her new body is capable of. In addition to helping her learn how to handle her newly transformed body, they have decided to test the bond to see if they might learn to love one another. He made a promise not to force her into honoring it, a promise that costs him every day, in moments like this when he wants to go to her but wonders if the response will be rejection. 

Her difficulty adjusting to both the bond and her body is made easier by the fact that Lucien’s home is in the Spring Court, near the human lands. She knows she can’t go back, but he frequently catches her looking in the direction of her old home. 

Each day she finds herself looking less and less towards her old home, and turning more often towards Lucien. 

There is still a wariness to their interactions, based in the uncertainty of her new position and his fear of pushing her too much, too quickly. He knows he loves her. Other than this… Lucien finds himself tiptoeing around his own home, when he should be the lord and master. The quiet presence of this creature in his home has destabilized him in ways he hadn’t expected, but he clings desperately to the moments when he will see her. 

They have fallen into what has become a familiar routine; she spends much of her time outdoors while he attends to court business, and they take their breakfast and dinner together, most days. They make polite conversation, during which he delights in making her laugh, or blush slightly at his compliments, and she brings a fresh bouquet from his gardens for the dinner table. During these conversations they learn about each other, their histories, their families, although some topics are barely surfacing. What Amarantha did to him. What happened when her engagement ended. There are some memories and wounds that are too fresh, and they are slowly growing comfortable speaking of topics such as those. 

After dinner, he began to place a chaste kiss on her hand before they retire to their own rooms, both of them pausing, waiting for the other to say something, to perhaps ask the other to stay. One evening he had grabbed her hand as she turned to leave and pulled her into him to place a kiss on her cheek. Her blood rushed to her face, and he thought he had pushed too hard until she wrapped her hands around his neck to kiss him fully, slipping her tongue past his lips. When she finally broke the kiss, she turned and left without saying another word. 

She has repeated that display only periodically since that first time. Just when Lucien begins to wonder if Elain has finally decided against him and will never want him like that, she will pull his lips down to her and he will hold himself back from letting his lips wander down her throat, grasping her with the hunger he tries to hide from the bond. He lets her set the pace, allowing her to turn and walk away from him, leaving him wanting more. 

This evening, when Lucien feels something through the bond, something that causes him to flush and think of that kiss, he wonders if it were possible that she is thinking of it, or perhaps had even sent that image to him. He would shake off the feeling if he weren’t so desperate to touch her again. This had all led him here, to where he is pacing down the hallway to her door, indecision slowing him. 

— 

When she goes back to her room Elain is thinking about those kisses, about the way his hands grasp her waist and wander down her back. Each evening when she can work up the nerve and pull him to her, she waits for him to grow more bold, but he never does. She sighs with frustration, a small sound that he has apparently not yet learned how to read. Turning and leaving him without a word, she wonders if he will ever decide to follow. Sweetness does not necessarily equal patience, a fact he will learn quickly if he doesn’t reciprocate. 

She had come here to learn, to try to adjust to her new life, but she is unsure of whether being around him is more help, or more of a distraction. She flushes whenever she catches herself thinking of running her fingers through his hair, the sight of his lithe, strong frame, of pulling him down to her throat… 

The bond - this was something neither of them understood fully, either from ignorance or from the novelty of it. She thinks back to all the times she felt something through it - when she turned and he said she was his mate, she knew it was true, as surely as she knew she had changed irreparably, but it had been too much as Nesta had grabbed for her, only to be thrown to her fate in her turn. 

What she hasn’t expected is to feel something more than a fated attachment to this male. She didn’t fully understand what it meant, when he had gasped the words at her - _you’re my mate_ \- and she didn’t know if anyone could really explain it until she had experienced it herself. 

He has been kind and cautious with her, and she recalled more than once what Feyre had told her about his time under Tamlin’s thumb. He had told her himself about the woman he had loved before, about what Amarantha had done to him. She grew restless and uselessly angry that these acts had been committed against him, but the roar in her blood had no target, nowhere to go, now that everything was over. That he could be so kind and considerate after everything only made her want to turn to him more. 

She knows that he has held himself back for her benefit, for fear that she is not ready, but she has become tired of waiting. 

This evening, she decides that if he won’t give her what she needs, she will attend to matters herself. Preparing for bed, she elects to forego her panties, since she will discard them soon in any case. Clad in only her knee-length nightgown, her hair thrown over her shoulder in a braid, she has the first sparks of an idea. She isn’t quite sure how the bond works, but perhaps, while she gives herself what he won’t, she can send him a message… 

Reclined against her pillows, she thinks of his hands, of what they could do to her if he let them travel across her skin. She remembers the bond, what Feyre had hinted at before. There is a way to send him messages and thoughts, to let him know what she wants. 

When she eases back against her pillows, her first thought is of Lucien: his muscled arms, the way his hips taper into strong thighs, the planes of his face. She sighs, reaching her fingers underneath her nightgown, imagining a different end to their dinner. One where he pushes his tongue into her mouth before she has a chance to do the same to him, runs his lips along the curve of her neck, lifts her so she can wrap her legs around his waist, and takes her against the wall. 

Perhaps he would push aside the dishes, not bothering to wait until they are done eating. Rather than letting her be the one to pull him close, she imagines him yanking desperately at the laces of her dress as he devours her with his eyes. Thinking of the possibility of him wanting her in this way, she groans. 

As the images become solid in her mind her hands become more bold, one hand venturing to a breast while the other reaches under her hem to slip between her thighs. 

She tries to recall times when she has felt things he sent to her without meaning to. It happens when his guard is down, but surely there is some way to send him something specific… she slips her fingers into her folds, imagining what it might be like to wrap her legs around him while he pushes her back onto that dining room table, and she swears she can feel a shiver in response to this image she is projecting. She thinks of his eyes, one metal and one natural, and concentrates on the way he might look at her, with desire in his expression, even as she pushes her longing towards him blindly, unsure of if it will hit its target. 

She pauses the motion of her fingers as she hears him pacing in the hallway, smiling to herself as she waits. His name escapes her lips before she can help herself, calling out to him in the way she would as if they were his fingers slipping through her, arching her back slightly as if he were there to press herself into. 

He is coming up with excuses to turn around again and go back to his own room when he hears her. She is saying something, low, quiet, and he can’t quite make it out, but then he hears his own name coming from her lips, but the sound of his name coming from her lips breaks his reserve. 

When he opens the door he sees… much more than he had bargained for. 

Elain is in bed, but instead of tucked into her duvet and wearing a modest nightgown, she is sitting up, one hand between her legs and the other covering a bared breast. A thin strap hangs from her shoulder, shoved away in her haste to touch herself. His nostrils flare as he scents her arousal. Her hand is in the way of what is between her thighs, but he already has a clear impression of exactly what he would find there - a soaking wetness that would allow him to slip into her easily, if only that were what she wanted… 

Blinking away the thought, he stands by the door, neither of them sure what to do, only that her hand is still between her legs, her lips are still parted, she is still panting his name. 

“I felt you. Through the bond,” he says before he can stop himself. She had only half expected it to work, not sure if the whispers of want she had felt from him were real, let alone whether or not her own efforts would succeed. 

She turns slightly pale at that, mind racing over everything she has done, thought, or felt in the last couple of hours. She had wanted to try, but for it to actually work… She would be mortified, but she is already sitting on her bed half naked in front of him. He has already heard her moan his name while alone in her room, seen her fingers working herself… She looks away from him, her emotions at war between her sudden vulnerability at being found like this, and satisfaction that she has successfully brought him into her room when she needed more than just the idea of him. 

“Do you want me to leave,” he asks quietly, unsure of which response will make him more anxious. 

“No. Stay, please.” She is looking at him with a frankness that makes him bold, and for a moment he doesn’t want to take his eyes off her. 

Closing the door behind him, he strides to her. She hadn’t known what to expect, and looks back at the door with trepidation. 

“Do you… want me? I mean… I want to…” He stops himself, unsure of how to continue asking her if he can touch her, if he can take over where she left off, without being blunt. 

“Lucien, are you trying to ask me if I want you to make me come,” she says, sounding braver than she had expected. 

“Yes, Elain,” he says, sliding onto the bed beside her, his voice becoming low. He kisses her cheek. “I want to help you come.” 

She takes a deep breath and nods before pulling his face back towards hers to kiss him in a manner that has become familiar. Only now they are on her bed, and she is still half-dressed, the strap of her nightgown still hanging down her arm. She sinks back into the pillows again as he shifts his weight over her. 

With one arm wrapped around her waist, he takes his other hand to gently lift her head, pushing under her chin to gain access to her throat. 

“Is this what you wanted, Elain,” he whispers against her skin. 

Her reply is a strangled yes that barely makes it past her lips as he runs his tongue along her collarbone. The sensation of his body over hers is enough to make her want to wrap her legs around him and invite him in now, but he has been in her room for less than a minute, and she wants to savor the first time they come together in that way. 

He pulls down the other strap of her nightgown to bare her to him, and her movement is temporarily restrained. When he begins to leave soft kisses on her breast she moans him name and arches her back, putting her hand to the back of his head to get him where she needs his lips next. He chuckles softly and refuses, nuzzling his nose between her breasts before looking back up at her. 

“Impatient, are we?” She swallows when she sees the lust in his expression, pulling her arms free of the straps that had restrained her movement and yanking him back up to her so roughly that they crash together. Her hands roam his back, grasp his hair, and she finally wraps her legs around him, not caring that he will know immediately how wet she is for him. 

He is groaning into her mouth - a steady chorus of _Elain, Elain, Elain_ \- as he stretches his body over hers, hovering over her. When he reaches down between her legs fear grips her suddenly and she grasps his wrist, stopping him. 

“Lucien, I’ve never… I’ve never done anything like this with anyone,” she tells him, and the hesitation in her voice halts his progress. Realization grips him, that he will be first to touch her in this way, and he tempers his need to have all of her. 

He nods, and he decides to test the bond himself, sending her reassurance that he will be gentle, that he will worship her, that he will stop when she asks him to. He has no intention of rushing her, of demanding more of her than she is willing to give. Her eyes widen slightly and he knows that she understands. Small smiles are exchanged between them as his hands begin to drift downward again. He keeps his gaze on her face as her brushes his fingers over her breast and then lower, until they finally come to rest between her legs, his palm gripping the inside of one thigh. He brushes his nose along her neck at the same time as his fingers brush against her center, the sensation causing her to lift her back off the bed and let out a small gasp. He begins to explore her skin, her folds, as she writhes, wondering how it can be so much different - _so much better_ \- when he is the one touching her. 

He looks at her with lust in his face and sends her something through the bond, something he wants. Her vision is taken over by the image of his head between her thighs, his long hair brushing her skin, one hand on her stomach while the other is working her to an edge, and she begins to nod excitedly, not caring about the small satisfied chuckle that Lucien lets escape. 

Shifting his body over her, he makes his way down between her legs, taking one of her nipples between his teeth and gently tugging as he goes. She moans his name again - and he will do whatever he needs to make her keep doing that - and he continues his progress. When he settles himself between her thighs he pushes her nightgown up over her hips until it has become bunched around her waist, the peaks of her breasts still exposed. He flicks his tongue between her legs once, taking just a taste of her before he lets himself loose. He had scented how ready she was before, and felt her slickness coat his fingers, heard the sounds from her mouth and from between her legs as he slid his fingers into her, and now he is overwhelmed by the taste of her. He grips both of her thighs as he begins to work her in earnest, starting off slowly to ease her in. 

She threads her fingers through his hair on instinct, feeling the movement of his head on her legs as his tongue tastes and dips inside of her and his lips pull her flesh into his mouth. She has imagined this moment, but the reality of it… his tongue is warm and soft and strong against her, and the sounds of his breathing against her core, of the combined slickness of his mouth and her cunt… she was already so close, she had been when he walked in the door, and now she is sure that she is going to die from this. She whines, shifting her hips against him until he places a finger inside of her, pumping and thrusting it into her until she begs him for another through the bond. He obliges her almost immediately and she smiles for a moment, thinking of the various uses they can have for this newfound communication until he curls his fingers inside of her and she cries out, arching her back off the bed and curling her toes that have found a resting place on his back. 

She is so close now, and the mingled scents of her own arousal and his have become intoxicating to her. Her body is shaking with the force of him working between her thighs, and she releases one hand from his head to clench the sheets, giving him more freedom to move his head as he needs. She wants to clench around him to feel the brush of his hair on the soft inner skin of her thighs, but doesn’t want to impede his movement, so she settles for closing her legs just enough to feel him, until he pushes her open again with his palms. 

He lifts his head slightly, just long enough to say her name, to ask her to come for him. They both want to hear him say it, to feel the words vibrating through the air, and she readily complies. The waves of pleasure crash over her repeatedly and she grips his hair between her fingers without thinking. Looking up at her, he watches the rise and fall of her breasts before moving up to be next to her. 

“Lucien… can I touch you?” She is still panting slightly, her lips parted and her vulnerability in this moment startling. He pauses, trying to steady his own breath as he pushes her hair from her flushed cheeks. 

“Only if you want to, Elain,” he whispers into her ear, and he is fully aware of the new wave of desire that creates in her. 

Without another word, she lets a hand drift down his chest until she feels him hard beneath her palm. She kisses him, tasting herself on his lips, as she unfastens the buttons. Pushing his pants down his hips, she looks at her mate’s cock for the first time and tests him, running her fingers along him until he is forced to push his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes with her name on his lips. Satisfaction crosses her face as she runs her thumb over the head of him before grasping him and running her hand along him in a steady rhythm. He lifts his hips into her hand and then reaches for her breast, running his thumb over her nipple as her she learns how he wants her to touch him, how to set a pace that will have him crying her name as she had just cried his. The movement of his hand on her breast becomes erratic as he reaches his own edge. Her name escapes his lips in a half-groan as he comes in her hand, and she places small kisses along his jaw as he goes through the same waves of pleasure he had just wrought from her. 

Once they have both regained their breath she sheds herself of her nightgown completely, to his surprise. Lucien stands to get a cloth for her, taking her hand into his own to clean himself from it. She looks at him and the enormity of the step they have just taken makes her giggle. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and cups her cheek in his hand, his heart near to bursting when she leans into the touch. 

“Will you stay here, with me?” The unsteady voice she uses to make this request is startling, considering the intimacy of what they have just done, but Lucien reminds himself that she is still new to this, to her body, to him, the bond. And despite being an apparently quick learner, he will give her all the time in the world to continue adjusting to this, to them. 

“Of course, Elain,” he replies. She shifts to make herself comfortable on the bed, curling herself into him as he wraps his arms around her naked form. 

“Lucien,” she says, her voice small in the room. 

“Yes,” he says cautiously, fearing she will ask him to leave after all. 

“I think I’ve decided… I like this bond thing. If it can get you to do what I want, that is.” 

He can hear the smile in her voice and throws his head back laughing, pulling her in tighter to him as his amusement shakes her body and she finds herself unable to stop from returning his laughter with her own. 

**Author's Note:**

> Vesta is the title of a song by Fear of Men - and also a virgin goddess of the hearth/family.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://abookandacoffee.tumblr.com/)!


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